Cullen’s boots crunched the snow as he walked. The sound was pleasant to him, as was the chilly afternoon air. He had been stuffed in his solar for hours, answering missives until his hand ached and his eyes swam. It was good to be outside.
The keep was quieter than usual. The cold kept most inside and the afternoon was filled with the constant drip of melting snow falling from the roof of the keep and the branches of trees. Cullen was convinced this was the end of bad weather, the clear sky heralding the onset of spring. Though, in the mountains that surrounded their keep, one could never be too certain.
He heard laughter ahead of him. His good mood was lightened even further as he realized it was children, likely enjoying the last of the snow. He smiled as he approached the sound, but his smile faltered somewhat as the scene came into view.
Ciara was standing in the middle of the children, her ebony staff held high above her head. The children were dancing around her and at first, he was unsure why. Then, he saw the ground around them erupt in miniature geysers of snow, the children shrieking with laughter as they ran to jump in them and be lifted a few feet off the ground, surrounded by swirling snow.
Cullen held his breath, his first instinct to stop this. Using magic in such way around small, non-mage children was not something he agreed with. They needed to learn that magic was not something to be trusted and, barring that, at least not something to be taken lightly.
Before he could move closer, a hand touched his shoulder. He turned and saw that Dorian stood slightly behind him, his deep golden skin glowing in the cold, his breath fogging the air in front of his smiling face. Dorian’s voice carried that smile, and Cullen noted a hint of awe as he spoke. “She is magnificent, isn’t she?”
Cullen started to respond, but instead, turned back to the scene before him. Ciara’s long chestnut hair lay in waves around her shoulders, glittering with snow dust. Her nose and cheeks were red and her eyes sparkled with delight as she watched the children. She wore a long winter robe, grey velvet with a deep grey lining of thick fur. Her hands were gloved in red leather and the bottom of her scarlet robe peaked out from beneath the warmer fabric.
Cullen continued to watch her. Her eyes were a deep grey, almost the color of her robe. He had been accosted by that steel grey stare enough to know that the color added a coolness to her countenance. Her eyes reminded him of a sword in the darkness, a pair of blades that drank in the night. When her dark eyebrows drew down in consternation, those grey eyes seemed to slice through him, merciless and unforgiving.
The woman before seemed a different creature to the one he was accustomed to. Her grey eyes were shining, a mixture of life and softness pouring out of them. She almost glowed in the midst of the snow and laughing children, her lips creating the first smile he had ever seen from the woman.
Dorian was right. She was magnificent.
The mage removed his hand from Cullen’s shoulder and walked forward so they were side by side. “In Tevinter, she would have been a queen. Men would have courted her fiercely for her beauty and her skills. Her magic is so beautiful, so rare.” The mage sighed loudly. “Here, she has had to hide her talents, always ashamed of who she is. It is only now that she is beginning to wake up, to come to life. It is a marvelous thing to see.”
Cullen shifted uncomfortably. “Magic is dangerous, Dorian. It can lead to terrible things if it is not checked.”
Dorian looked at him, his eyes suddenly bitter. “Life is a marvel, my friend. All life. The Maker gives a rare and wonderful gift to this woman, and you insist she must be ashamed of her very nature.”
“Not ashamed. Only cautious.”
Dorian shook his head. “The Maker has blessed you with strength and endurance. Can you not remember running as fast as you could as a child? Jumping, climbing, and yelling as loud as your lungs allowed you? Imagine now that you your whole life, you were forced to run at only half your speed, your legs covered in heavy weights so that you could never jump too high nor swim too far. Imagine that, Templar.”
Cullen shook his head. “It is not that simple and you know it. I know what the Circle does to mages. I have actually been there, seen it. It is a necessity, despite its faults. Mages have difficulties beyond anything we do, whatever their intentions. They cannot be allowed the freedoms of non-mages because the world holds for them terrible temptations with terrible consequences that go far beyond themselves.” He rubbed his forehead, tired of this same argument. He looked back at Ciara, his voice softening. “If she were to use her power without thought, even for a moment, she could destroy an entire village. If she were to love or desire anything, her fear of losing it could expose her to the whispering of demons. She must always be cautious, always reserved, and always alone in this world. She know this, and accepts it. Why can’t you?”
Dorian was silent for a moment. “Because I want to be alive…truly alive. Don’t you?”
Cullen shrugged. “Perhaps I did once. Now, I am content to do my duty and guard my heart.” His brows furrowed at his own words and his cheeks were suddenly burning. Maker, why did I say that?
Dorian looked at him sharply. His expression smoothed and an annoyingly knowing look spread across his countenance. “The world grows more fragile each day commander. The very sky around us is ripping apart. Live while you have the chance, my friend.”
Cullen turned and walked back towards the keep, too troubled to answer.